


Smoke and Mirrors

by senholo



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Behavior, Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Not sure how this is going to develop so we'll see what happens!, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:08:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27300955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/senholo/pseuds/senholo
Summary: You always had a way of finding trouble, and being trapped in Raccoon City during an unprecedented biohazard outbreak is no exception; threat of infection is high and chances of survival are low, until you make a deal with the devil to have a chance of escaping the city...
Relationships: Nicholai Ginovaef Nikolai Zinoviev/Reader, Nicholai Ginovaef Nikolai Zinoviev/Reader Insert
Comments: 10
Kudos: 17





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Little Doll](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26327251) by [AnotherAnon0](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnotherAnon0/pseuds/AnotherAnon0). 



> I have no shame to say that I've read nearly every piece of filthy Resident Evil literature that @AnotherAnon0 has posted on this site, and their work has turned the small crush I had on Nicholai after playing the RE3 remake into a very large one... They didn't force me to write this, but they did put the gun in my hand after this fic very literally came to me in a dream... Cheers!
> 
> This work will be explicit and will include porn! Don't know how long it will be!
> 
> Translations included at the end!
> 
> If you enjoy this piece, consider checking out my other work! :)
> 
> And if you think you might like me, check me out on Twitch! I stream Dead by Daylight and other games (including RE from time to time) five days a week, I'm LGBT+ and I strive to have a positive and inclusive chat! Come say Hiiiii ~  
> https://www.twitch.tv/sen_holo

Raccoon City had been a nightmare; a dark and twisted city, a means to an end. A place for you to accept a few odd jobs, make some quick cash and then move on to the next place. 

That was before the outbreak. 

Now you were trapped, fighting for your life in the dirty godforsaken streets versus never ending hordes of undead. You thanked your lucky stars that you grew up in a military-oriented family, if your parents hadn’t taught you self defense and hand-to-hand combat you’d probably be dead by now; that and the gun and ammo stores you kept for self defense, the perks of living in a sketchy neighborhood.

You swore under your breath as you ducked under the arms of a pudgy zombie, narrowly missing its hands. You dash down an alley, cursing the whole time; the exertion exacerbated the bleeding wound on your shoulder, an injury inflicted by one of the bastards. You’d been bitten while fleeing a large group of them, after risking entering an abandoned gun shop for supplies. You’d gotten ammo and an extra weapon, but at a high cost. 

You knew what happened to people who got bitten, you’d seen enough in the days you’d been trapped in the city; soon you’d become one of the things you were fighting. 

Luckily, you had some insider information; your line of work wasn’t exactly on the up and up, and you knew more about what was going on than most of the people stuck in Raccoon City. You were headed towards Spencer Memorial Hospital, where the company responsible for this outbreak conducted some of its research. You knew there was a doctor there, Dr. Bard, who was in charge of developing a vaccine. You planned on getting some, regardless on how willing the good doctor was. 

The trek to the hospital isn’t easy, dealing with zombies was hard enough without a severe injury, especially one on your gun arm. The bite was on the curve between your shoulder and neck, almost close enough to a vein to make you bleed out; you’d been able to bandage it with some less-than-clean cloth, but you’d lost a lot of blood and the pain made firing your weapon difficult. You had to settle for well timed dodges and ducks, aiming to avoid oncoming attacks instead of killing outright; it saved you ammo, but it made getting to your destination difficult. 

Eventually you make it to the hospital’s grand glass doors, which were broken and bloodied now. You carefully step over the glass, making your way to a triage room to look for supplies. Your priority was the vaccine, but your wound needed clean bandages, your blood had soaked through the dirty fabric you’d used to cover it; a fact you couldn’t ignore. You manage to find some fresh looking gauze and a squirt bottle of isopropyl alcohol; you grit your teeth as you soak the bite in the alcohol, doing your best to ignore the screaming pain as the liquid connects with your exposed flesh. Once most of the blood is gone and the wound is decently clean, you wrap it in gauze, having to remove your shirt so you can wrap it properly. 

The rest of the hospital is surprisingly quiet, most of the undead seemingly wandering away from it once it was empty of living victims. You’re thankful for this, only having to ward off a few monsters on your way up to your destination. Doctor Bard’s special ward is locked tight, but you punch the override code into the number pad; while you hadn’t worked with Dr. Bard personally, you’d made a few deliveries here and had been trusted with the passcode. 

You draw your gun as the doors open, unsure what to expect and wanting to be ready for anything. The office is dark, only a few computer screens light up the room; at the far end of the room is Dr. Bard, hovering over a computer screen. He hastily punches a few keys on the keyboard, closing whatever was on the screen. 

“Doctor Bard?” You ask, you knew it was him, you’d seen him around this office, usually yelling at meek and scared nurses. He looks paranoid, eyes flicking between you and your gun. 

“You’re not UBCS... I’ve seen you around here.” He sounds panicked, backing away from you slightly. 

“Good job,” You say sarcastically, frankly not giving a shit about what he might have to do with the Umbrella Biohazard Countermeasure Service. You raise your gun a little bit, just enough to scare him, “Where’s the vaccine, Bard.” It’s not a question. 

“Y-you can’t have it.” He stammers, gripping the desk behind him, “It’s my ticket out of this city.” 

You smirk at him, pointing your gun directly at him, “You’re not in a position to say no.” He looks at you defiantly, last shred of pride still unbroken. You sigh, you weren’t a monster, despite your morally ambiguous line of work, “ _ If _ you give it to me, I’ll help you find a way out of here.  _ Take it _ or  _ leave it. _ ” 

The doctor hesitates, considering his options before nodding and pointing to the door behind him, “It’s the purple vial.” You smile and drop your gun slightly, still keeping it pointing towards him as you stride past and push through the door. 

There are several vials of medication and other samples in a refrigerated unit, on a middle shelf sits two purple vials; your salvation. You greedily grab one of the vials, which comes in its own dispenser, and plunge it into your arm. The needle is thick and the serum stings quite a bit, making you hiss as the cold liquid enters your arm. You let out a sigh of relief when it’s done, tucking the empty vial into a side pocket, one less thing to worry about; now you just had to escape the city.

You almost don’t notice the sound of a silenced gunshot come from the other room, nearly making you panic. Doctor Bard definitely didn’t have a gun. You want to kick the door open, guns blazing, but you know with your injury you needed to be careful. You push the door open as quietly as you can, gun at your side. A silver-haired man leans over one of the computers at the far side of the room, the UBCS logo boldly emblazoned on his vest. Dr. Bard was slumped over in a chair next to him, a bullet hole in between his eyes. 

You curse silently to yourself, unsure what to do. The guy was clearly strong, muscles visible even from across the room; it was definitely a fight you didn’t want to take, especially not hurt the way you were. You should turn around, try to hide in the storage room until he left, but your own stubborn nature wont allow it. 

“That’s one hell of an extraction.” You say without thinking, your gun aimed at the man's back. He turns to face you, scowling; only seeming slightly surprised by your presence. 

“What can I say, I’m dedicated to my work.” He responds, his accent is thick, one you recognize as Russian. Before you can react or fire, he lunges at you, knocking the gun out of your hand, making you swear. You dodge a punch that would have collided with your face, throwing your own fist out to hit him in the stomach; it feels like hitting a brick wall he’s so muscular, making your hand sting. The hit doesn’t even manage to knock the wind out of him, only making him grunt slightly as he smirks at you; catching you off guard enough for his fist to catch your nose and lip. 

You reel back from him, blood spurting from your nose, but you don’t back down, clapping your hands together before making a ‘come and get it’ motion. His nostrils flare as he swings at you again, but this time you are ready; moving out of the way in time and thrusting your elbow into his jaw. 

This time it’s him wiping away blood, swearing at you under his breath,  _ “Ty menya dostal.”  _

_ “Zhri govno i zdohni!”  _ You fire back, surprising him with your Russian; you lunge towards him, trying to knee him in the ribs. It is a mistake, he grabs the underside of your thigh, trapping you against him; you struggle to get away from him but his grip is firm. In this position he’s able to see the gauze wrapped around your shoulder, he brings his hand down on it without mercy, taking advantage of your wound, making you cry out as white hot pain nearly blinds you. 

He pinches harder, mercilessly squeezing your wound in his hands; you swear you hear him laugh, you definitely see his lip curl into a smile, like a sick part of him enjoyed the agony he was inflicting on you. You clench your jaw and inadvisably slam your head into his as hard as you can, the shock and pain forcing him to drop you as you both swear and stumble away from each other. 

You’re doubled over, breathing hard and clutching your shoulder; fresh blood has penetrated the bandage after being roughly handled. The man regards you carefully, a small welt developing on his forehead. 

“You’re infected.” He says, wiping blood off his lip.

_ “Was  _ infected.” You correct, reaching into your pocket to pull out the recently used syringe, “Thanks to the good doctor here.” You gesture to the now deceased Dr. Bard.

He scoffs at you, blowing air through his teeth in annoyance, “You took that? How do you know it was really a vaccine?” 

You glare at him, “How about I bite you, and we find out.” 

The two of you stare each other down, each unsure what to make of the other; you don’t want to move, you aren’t afraid of him, but you don’t want to get beaten down to the floor. You look him up and down, realizing that maybe you  _ should _ be scared; he’s massive, a tall piece of military muscle, with intense, cruel eyes that probably unnerved most people. His rough demeanor only seems to accent his strong angular features; you’re not sure why, but you aren’t worried or afraid, despite the situation. If he was going to kill you, he probably would have by now. 

“Does UBCS make a habit of killing Umbrella researchers?” You chastise yourself for asking; you’re in a precarious situation, even if this guy had decided not to kill you now, he could still change his mind if you pissed him off. 

“That is none of your concern.” He turns away, back to his work on the computer, staring contest over. You release a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, standing back to your full height. You slowly move to retrieve your gun from the floor, making a show of putting it back in its holster. If he sees he doesn’t care, seemingly having written you off as not a threat; something that irks you, since you could choose to blow his brains out now. 

You knew enough about Umbrella from taking side jobs from them to know that they were involved in some dubious activities; you knew they were involved in the outbreak, that’s why Doctor Bard had a vaccine ready, but why kill him? 

You shake the thoughts away, none of that was important now; the facts would come out in the aftermath, all that mattered right now was survival. 

“You got a ride out of this city?” You ask, your voice level. Despite your own resources, that was the one thing you didn’t have; you had weapons to survive, insider knowledge about the outbreak, but you were trapped in the city just like everyone else. The military had shut the roads down days ago in an attempt to contain the damage, trapping infected and survivors alike inside. You didn’t show it, but you were desperate to find a way out; determined to survive. 

He doesn’t look up from his computer to acknowledge you, “My plans do not include you.” 

“I can pay you.” You respond instantly, not willing to let the opportunity pass you by; most people responded well to cash offers in your experience, and money was no issue for you.

He stiffens slightly for a brief moment, just long enough for you to wonder if he actually reacted or not, composure recovered quickly. He turns to face you, folding his arms over his broad chest and crossing one leg over the other at the ankle, fierce eyes regarding you carefully.

He thinks for a moment before speaking, considering the repercussions and details of having to drag you around with him. His words are deliberate when he finally speaks, emphasis on each one, “How much?” 

You smile sweetly at him, looking up at him from lidded eyes, “You can’t put a price on life,  _ dorogoi moy _ .” You swear the corner of his mouth twitches in a half smirk and that his eyes seem less intense but he doesn’t react otherwise. 

“How much.” He repeats, less of a question this time. 

You think for a moment, actually unsure of an amount, pinching the space between your eyes, “Two hundred thousand?” You offer, not sure if it’s a reasonable price.

He’s silent, looking at you like you’re something he’s never seen before, and doesn’t know what to do with. He shakes his head slightly, as if chastising himself, “How do I know you’re good for the money?” 

His question was amusing to you, you have to stop yourself from laughing or making a face. You  _ were  _ good for the money, but you didn’t have any way of proving that. 

You shrug, “You don’t, it’s a gamble. Are you a gambling man…?” You trail off, going to say his name but stopping when you realize you don't know it. A small pang of fear jolts through you, he could think you were bluffing about the money and leave you behind; what if he didn’t even have a way out of the city? It was a gamble for both of you, with a lot of money and your lives on the line. 

“Nicholai.” He says gruffly and you smile, a nice Russian name for a handsome Russian man. He speaks before you can, blowing air out of his teeth, “If you fall behind, or get in my way, you die. Understand? I don’t carry dead weight.”

You can’t help the big dumb smile that breaks out on your face, after days of being trapped in Raccoon City you finally had hope of escaping it. 

You’re so elated that you aren’t even teasing when you say, “Yes sir.” 


	2. Chapter 2

_“Yeshche raz.” Your mothers voice is firm, and you set to do the task in front of you again; grabbing the gun in your hands and taking it apart as carefully and with as much precision as your seven year old hands will allow. The clip is loaded, you know as much from breaking the pistol down so many times, so you treat it with care. Before long, you have disassembled and reassembled the gun, placing it back down on the table in front of you gently. You don’t look up from the piece until your mother laughs, a joyous, barking sound that confirmed she was happy with your performance._

_She smiles down at you, “Good, you are getting faster.”_

_You had been waiting to smile or be proud of your accomplishment until you received her praise, unsure if you had done well enough, “Spasibo, mama.”_

_“We’re done for today.” She doesn’t show it, but you knew she was pleased. She liked it when you used Russian when you didn’t have to. When you were in America you spoke like the Americans did, when you were in Russia you spoke Russian. You were currently in America, and you knew speaking in her language would help with her approval of you. She claps her hand onto your shoulder, roughly rubbing the back of your neck._

_It is the closest thing she shows you to affection._

  
  


You didn’t know what you were expecting when you convinced Nicholai to help you escape the city. It was almost like part of you was expecting to be magically teleported to safety after the deal had been agreed upon, but you shake that feeling away. The two of you were still in Spencer Memorial Hospital, and still had to escape Racoon City alive; now you were doing it together instead of alone. 

Nicholai had turned back to the computer, leaving the two of you in silence. You had half a mind to ask him what he was doing, but resisted giving into your curious nature; guessing correctly that it would piss the Russian off. Instead you take the opportunity to explore the rest of Dr. Bard’s office, looking for any supplies or anything that could be useful. Your fingers trail over the table tops as you wander the office, absentmindedly reading a letter Dr. Bard had sent to one of his colleagues regarding a project they’d worked on, Project N. You were more privy than most to Umbrella’s inner workings, but you didn’t understand the specific project details discussed in the memo; you were a mercenary, not a scientist. 

You set the letter down, no longer interested, moving on to the computer Doctor Bard had been on when you’d entered the room. He’d been recording a video, you watch with disinterest, clicking onto the security camera view when it was over. You flick through the different cameras, looking through the mostly empty, bloody hospital rooms, not sure what you’re looking for. You catch a glimpse of a horrific reptilian monster in a hospital wing further down, silently thankful you hadn’t gone that way to get to Doctor Bard’s office. 

You click to the hospital entrance, about to move onto the next room when a man bursts past the door, carrying a woman in his arms. He pushes into the triage room you’d been into earlier, leaving the unconscious woman on a stretcher. She was clearly infected, they must have come for the vaccine. 

“ _Kolya_ , you’re going to want to see this.” You use the diminutive for his name, you aren’t purposefully trying to get a rise out of him but he exhales out his nose, annoyed.

“I don’t know how you know Russian, and I don’t care. Do not call me that. We are not friends, and I do _not_ like you very much!” His reaction almost makes you snort, the corner of your mouth turning up into a smirk as you point at the computer screen.

“You know them?” You ask, gesturing with your thumb at the computer screen. He studies the woman on screen for a moment before turning back to the other computer, hastily typing a few things before putting a silenced bullet through the screen; the sound makes you flinch, “We’re leaving.” 

You can’t help yourself this time, “So you do know them.” 

“You ask too many questions.” He says, scowling at you as he turns away. 

“I’ve only asked one!” You scoff, indignant. 

He whirls back towards you, index finger outstretched in a chastising motion; like you were a petulant child and he was an aggravated parent, “Yes! One too many!.” 

You want to slap his hand away from your face but he turns away before you can, you follow him out of the room before he can leave you behind, not willing to lose your chance at escaping. 

He leads you through a series of doors that turns into tunnels. You knew Umbrella had their own secret tunnels in the hospital, you’d been through them a few times yourself. Luckily, they were clear of undead and other bioweapons, and soon you stop in front of a locked room. Nicholai swipes a keycard, opening the door and stepping in. 

The room is plain, but there’s a wall that’s nearly covered in computer screens, security monitors watching over the whole hospital. Nicholai pulls out a chair, leaning back in it and propping his feet up on the control panel. You bite back the question that’s sitting on the tip of your tongue, wanting to ask why you were here, why you weren’t getting the _hell_ out of Raccoon City already.

“Come, sit, enjoy the show.” He interrupts your internal debate, gesturing to one of the larger central monitors, and you regard him carefully. He might as well have a bucket of popcorn, the way he was flipping through the cameras. You cautiously pull out another chair, sitting next to him begrudgingly. 

Up on the screens was the man you’d seen before, running through the hospital. You could see now that he was UBCS, and you wonder if he was part of the extraction team doctor Bard had been waiting for. 

“A one man extraction team?” You aren’t asking Nicholai specifically, just thinking out loud. 

“There’s another. A man.” You’re caught off guard when he answers, surprised he said anything at all, let alone actually offering something helpful. You don’t say anything, eyes trained on the man fighting for his life on the screen. 

Nicholai watched with all the vigor of someone watching a sporting event, ‘ooh’-ing and ‘aah’-ing whenever the soldier got particularly close to death or injury; almost disappointed when he survived, as if his team missed out on a goal. 

Your eyes wander to the triage room camera, to the injured woman the man had brought with him. She was definitely infected, it was difficult to make out the details through the grainy camera; but her face was contorted in pain and her body was slick with a sheen of sweat. UBCS had initially been dispatched to Raccoon City to help evacuate civilians, was she someone the soldier had found on his way to extract the doctor? The shotgun laying next to her makes you think otherwise. She must have been special, why else would UBCS waste so much time trying to get her the vaccine? 

You file your observations away for later, something about the woman seemed important; Nicholai clearly didn’t care for the UBCS officer, if he survived the horrors of the hospital it was possible there could be a fight. You decide not to ask about her for now. 

“You were a monitor, weren’t you?” You ask the question purposefully this time, but you suspect you already know the answer. You’d dealt with other Umbrella monitors during your time ‘freelancing’ for the company, you knew the type, and you had a feeling Nicholai was one of them. It would explain why he’d killed Bard while an extraction team was on the way, he’d been the one with Umbrella’s real orders. 

He nods dismissively, not taking his eyes off the screen; the man was shooting at one of the lizard bioweapons you’d seen earlier, it wasn’t looking good for him, “Mhmm, something like that.” 

You stand, not interested in watching this guy get torn to shreds, “You mind if I look around?” 

“I do not give a shit what you do.” You snort at his response and stand from your chair, walking around the room. The room was small, but there were plenty of computers to look at, so you pick one and flick through the files. This room was mainly for hospital security, but a few of the computers had some research logs on them. 

You toss a glance back at Nicholai, who was still watching the man on the screen with vigor, not caring or looking at what you were doing. You take advantage of his distraction, an Umbrella monitor would have some stake in the company, and likely wouldn’t approve of what you were about to do. 

Three of the computers have useful information on them, so you set to work breaking them down to get the hard drives out. The files stored there were worth thousands of dollars to the right buyer, and while you’d been working for Umbrella, you had no real loyalty or ties to them. Money was money, and you were about to be two hundred thousand dollars in the hole. Prying the side panels off is surprisingly easy, and you’re able to get the first two hard drives out with relative ease.

“What are you doing?” You notice his presence behind you too late as Nicholai’s voice interrupts your work. You stiffen, turning to face him, your hands gripping the desk behind you. 

He was close, too close; close enough where you could smell the tobacco on his breath, which was warm across your face. 

You swallow, trying to act nonchalant, like you hadn’t just been caught red-handed, “I thought you didn’t care.” 

“Tch, that was before you started breaking things.” Your face flushes red, flustered by his unnecessary closeness. 

You hold up one of the hard drives you’d liberated, steeling your voice, “This, is worth a lot of money. I am about to be out a lot of money. Gotta make it back somehow.” He looks at you for a moment, eyes flicking between you and the computer part. The corner of his mouth comes up in a brief half smile as he snorts, shrugging and backing away from you. 

“Hurry up then,” He points to the screen, where the UBCS soldier is back in the triage room, administering the vaccine to the woman, “They’ll be coming here soon, and there’s business that needs to be taken care of.” 

You crack open the last computer, snatching out the last hard drive and hastily shoving the three of them in your bag. Why wouldn’t he care that you were stealing privileged company information? Your head throbs as you struggle to understand his motives. 

You shoulder the bag, casting one last look up at the screen, wondering what exactly you’d gotten yourself into.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally adding to this.... For some reason I've been struggling with it, I'm not sure if I'm completely happy with it but oh well!
> 
> Idk why but Nicholai is just hard for me to write.... 
> 
> Translations (Sorry if these are wrong or shitty... I do my best but I don't know much about Russian 😭):  
> Yeshche raz - Again  
> Spasibo - Thank you  
> Kolya - Diminutive for Nicholai

**Author's Note:**

> Whoo! I'm back to writing in Raccoon City! 
> 
> I hope my characterization of Nicholai feels okay, he is much different than Wesker, though, I definitely have a type...
> 
> Sorry if my Russian is wrong or off, I don't speak it and did my best to cross reference things when looking up what I wanted to say, I did my best *sobs*
> 
> Translations:
> 
> "Ty menya dostal.” - I'm tired of you/You're bothering me
> 
> "Zhri govno i zdohni” - Eat shit and die 
> 
> "dorogoi moy.” - My dear 
> 
> Translation sources:  
> https://www.wordhippo.com/what-is/the-meaning-of/russian-word-e4a801fa83bd0b981e07fe5cb78ac972024ca14c.html 
> 
> https://www.thetraveltart.com/russian-swear-words-slang-expletives/ 
> 
> https://learnrussian.rt.com/speak-russian/tender-words-russian


End file.
